#&&. dad’s on a hunting trip // musings

[leatherandbourbon-a]

Tag dump!

[v-4-mpmistress]

Omg I would love to read Benedict x wife reader angst with a happy ending 😭

I only want you.

Benedict Bridgerton × Fem! Reader

'Till dead do us apart my love, my live, my darling, and i will stab myself i broke my promise'

Warnings/Tags: cheating (LIE, he would never, just a misunderstanding), angst with a happy ending, reader is pregnant.

Benedict Bridgerton had always been a free spirit, untamable, a rebel.

If he had to point the moments he had been happier in his life, he would list four.

So when he fell in love, when he married you, it was a surprise even to himself, yet he learned that he nevel felt more free than when he was with you, you were his muse.

1. The time he went with his dad, Anthony and Colin hunting when they were children

2. When he discovered art

3. When he married you

4. When you told him you were with child, his child

The moment he found out he was going to be a father, he almost passed out. He was terrified and completely and utterly devoted to you and your child. He began to insist on helping you with the most minimal stuff, even taking over some maiden's work to ensure it was done properly. He began kissing your stomach every day and night, whispering to the life growing on your womb.

He was completely and utterly obsessed with you, so when his friends from art school invited him to have some drinks at a gentlemen's club, he even doubted accepting it because he didn't wanted to leave you.

'Benedict Bridgerton, you are going out two hours, not to fight in a war,stop acting like a puppy', you had told him, half scold, half chuckle.

He, reluctantly, accepted the invite, of course not without kissing you sensless first.

Before he could take any step outside he felt hands roaming his back.

The drinks and chatting came quickly once he met up with his mates, and of course, eventually, he got drunk enough not to ask where his friends were taking him, and yet the path seemed familiar even in his foggy mind.

They arrived to a building covered in red fabric in the inside, some chaises, and people around .

The realization punched him in the face when he entered the stablishment that smelled like cheap perfume.

A brothel.

His mind slowly reacted to what his eyes saw, why was he here?, ah, that's right, his friends brought him, but why?.

'Do you wish any service, my lord? ', the woman asked, lips brushing against his neck, a hand on his arm making his skin shiver, yet it didn't felt right, it was not right, this wasn't his wife, but why wasn't he moving?, the alcohol, he was feeling dizzy, sick.

'I-, no, forgive me Miss', he said finally pulling apart looking around trying to locate the exit.

'It's not to worry my lord, nobody will spill a word', the woman spoke moving towards him again, hands roaming his chest.

'I- what?, no,no, I'm married, I'm not here for any service', he said grabbing the womans wrists to pull her hands afar.

'As many of the men here tonight, my lord, there is no shame on wanting someone else one night ', she said, trying to get closer.

'Uh- no, i assure you I'm happily married, this is a misunderstanding', he said slowly, panicking and moving towards the exit, almost knocking over a plant on the way out.

He walked out of there as fast as he could, forgetting about his friends, about absolutely everything except the fact he was suffocating in there, breathing shallow even as the fresh air hit his face.

Looking over his shoulder to the building behind him, he sighed shakily. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he ran a hand across his hair and began walking home.

He took off his vest, bowtie, and waistcoat on the way home. Was it improper? Absolutely, but there was no one walking the streets at this hour and his skin was burning both from an adrenaline he couldn't identify the source, almost like panic, and from the acohol in his body.

He almost smiled when he saw his house, ran and tripped but didn't fall, he stumbled when he opened the door but finally took a deep breath.

He left his clothes on a chaise nearby, not even worrying about the fact that he left his jacket on the gentleman's club.

'My love?', he asked almost in a whisper, not wanting to wake you up if you were already in bed.

'Ben?, you are back already?', your voice reached his ears with sweetness, he followed your voice almost as an instinct.

You were in the nursery, just a small candle lit as you unpacked a wooden box with stuff for the baby.

'Did you had fun?' You asked softly without looking at him but a small smile on your lips.

'...uh huh, i mean, I've had better, i guess', he said, still a tad disoriented.

'Go to sleep, Ben, you sound like you had more drinks than you should '. You chuckled softly as he approached you and sat next to you, taking a baby blanket in his hands.

But before he could even open his mouth, your brows furrowed.

'Benedict, why do you smell like that?', he froze as the words left your lips confusing even himself, smell like what?.

'What do you mean?', he said in a lower voice than what he meant.

'You smell like perfume, and i haven't gone to any gentleman's club, obviously, but i do not believe they spray 1 shilling perfume all over the place', you said finally looking at him.

'They do not, but it's-' he paused when he saw the look on your face.

'There is lipstick on your shirt', you spoke before he could begin talking again.

His brows furrowed, his hand moving instinctively to his neck.

'What are?-' He began saying, but you interrupted him.

'You went to a brothel ', a whisper escaped your lips, the confusion on your features turning into both horror and a different type of confusion.

He almost flinched at you words, it was true...half of it at least, but god, he felt dirty even if he didn't choose to go there or did something of the sort.

'I did not...i did, but it's what you think my darling i-' he began speaking, to his misfortune he began stuttering, frustrating because it wasn't out of shame of being caught, but out of the brandy in his system.

You two had a fight that night. It didn't last long as your tears began to shed and your throat to close, and Benedict was about to cry too because he was acting like a foolish man, like a culprit when in reality he was so drunk he wanted to puke.

He slept in his study that night, and even if he wasn't going to admit it, he shed tears too at hearing your sobs from the bedroom because, truth be told, he was terrified, he would die for you, kill for you, and he didn't wanted you to hate him because a fate like that would be worse than dead itself, also he was worried, you where supposed to stay calm, to relax, you where making life inside you, his child, your child, and he could never forgive himself if the emotions you where feeling now made you lost the baby.

He barely slept that night when he finally did it it was because he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

The next day, he woke up with his head trobbing like someone had smashed a chair on top of his head. He didn't know how much time he stayed unmoving, just trying to get the headache to go. When it calmed, he stood up, even if he was still in pain, because no matter how bad he felt nothing was more important than you, and he had to speak with you.

'What do you want', your voice cold and broken receiving him when he entered the bedroom almost made him tear up.

'Can we talk?', he asked, his voice trembling a bit.

'I do not think that's necessary ', you said, not looking at him, but at a painting he did, now hanged in the wall, still he could see thr faint redness in your eyes.

'It is, because it didn't happen what you think it did', he said calmly but still with that imperceptible tremble as he walked to kneel next to the bed.

You scoffed, and you didn't even wanted to reply to him.

'Just hear me please', he whispered softly, moving his hand close to yours but not touching you.

He waited a moment, sighed when you didn't replied and he explained what happened.

He apologized, more than he should. He explained how he had drinked more than he should, how he never questioned his friends, how he realized too late where he was, how the lady touched him, but he moved away, how he felt nauseous when she did, how he ran out of there to return to you.

And there was a part of you that still was weary, yet the tears that began building in his eyes weren't the tears of someone lying and scared of the consequences of his actions, they were honest tears, the ones shed by someone that thought he did something wrong when he was not at fault and of someone that simply felt too much.

'Im sorry, my love, forgive me, i-, i should had noticed where was i going, and i should have stayed here with you, the last thing i want it's to hurt you or the baby, i would prefer a hundred whippings than to hurt you...you are my entire reason of living, my dear, my entire soul is devoted to you, you are my muse, and if i have to spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you i will, but if i have to live in a world where you hate me or without you i would rather die', he whispered in a trembling voice reaching to grab your hands and kiss your knuckles gently.

'...i trust you Benedict, and i know you enough to know you will never dishonor me like this, but you do have to take a bath because that perfume smells horrid' you whispered after some moments, half about to cry and half chuckle.

He chuckled too but about to cry and moved his head to your lap.

'I love you, i promise i will never make you doubt again', he whispered, trembling.

That day finished with a freshly bathed Benedict that smelled like lavender, resting next to you, and covered in your lipstick kisses.

Because Benedict Bridgerton was a rebel, but he worshiped his wife like she hung the stars, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[nmakii]

I CANT HELP IT! IM SORRY but we know Al dies in his late 30s early 40s so we can assume he at least got to watch his kids grow up into young adults? What happens when Al dies and reader is “set free?” Only to figure out her children aren’t all who they seem to be? I can see reader’s son possibly becoming a corrupt detective/cop and perhaps her daughter gets into fashion or becoming a teacher? Im not sure what Emi’s future might be but im very curious on your thoughts!

UH OH, SHE’S LOSING HER CONTROL!

[hold up! read the rest of the story first!!]

— and when it seemed like there was no more hope, the monster of the house was slain.

and so, 12 years passed by like a breeze. despite being trapped in this hellhole called home, it was all worth it. for the children, all of it was worth it. noah, just 22 and he’s already a fine policeman, keeping the people in line. and the family treasure, emilia— aged 15, and yet a smart little girl. starting her own little farm outside, from cotton to potatoes, and keeping the family afloat. such wonderful kids, it’s a miracle alastor’s manipulations didn’t rub off on them.

1933, times were tough— the stock market crashed, the bank had failed, and everyone was living off of rations. thankfully, radios gained more popularity, and alastor had profited off of it, making sure his little family was fed with a roof over their heads— he seemed to not only enjoy the newfound wealth, but also the suffering in the streets... suitable for a monster such as himself. and while he worked, you and emilia had used the cotton from her farm to create and sell dresses, your own little effort to the community.

still, that didn’t change the hell that was outside your little safe haven. it wasn’t rare for young men to knock on your door, begging for work. and while your heart felt for them, it couldn’t change what alastor had in mind for them. he’d bring them in— down into the basement. and that very night, suddenly there was meat on the table.

you knew what he did, you weren’t an idiot. he gave you that man’s flesh. but, you did what you had to do. for the children, so that they’re well-nourished. and against your better judgement, you followed through, serving what seemed to be a steak. your husband seemed to love your ultimate submissiveness, one way or the other, you’d give into his ways. although it made your stomach churn, the very thought of eating the poor man, it was hard to live during these times, it was what had to be done.

and, it was why you let your children on a hunting trip with him. “little emi’s first trip! you excited, lil’ sis?” noah laughed, patting his sister on the head. “don’t do that, you’ll mess up my hair!” emilia frowned back. alastor laughed at the two as he held you by the waist, “oh, those two!” he mused, looking back to face you. “we’ll be home in time for dinner, my love. i love you so very much!” he smiled, kissing you all over. you hated whenever he did that— when he acted like he’d done nothing wrong, yet you didn’t fight back. what point was there to it? 15 years, and he’s managed to keep you in this house, there was no more use in fighting back.

“okay. just keep them safe, alastor.” you said as he pressed his nose against your’s. he smiled against your lips and laid onto you one final kiss. “don’t you worry your pretty little head, my dear. i’ll protect them with my life.”

and, that was the last time you saw him.

when your children came home, they looked frightened. “m..momma…” emilia whimpered. “oh, baby, what’s wrong? where’s dad?” you asked, running towards them to make sure they were safe. “…ma…” noah let out. “dad’s dead…” he said, ashamed to look you in the eye. “he’s… dead..?” you asked, dazed. “momma! i-i didn’t mean to!” your daughter cried, pulling you closer to hug. “you didn’t mean to..? emi, what happened?” you pulled your daughter far away enough to see her teary-eyed face.

“…i shot dad…” she said, hiccuping in-between words. your eyes widened at her words. “d-dad was on his knees in the dirt, so i thought he was a deer ‘n i shot him…” she explained, wiping her tears. “momma, i don’t wanna go to jail.” she cried out. “don’t worry, baby. you won’t go to jail. you didn’t mean to…” you kissed her on the forehead.

standing up properly, you looked your son in the eyes, wet as he tried to hold his tears back. “baby, i need you to show me where dad is, i’ll take care of it.” you said. “y-yeah, ok, momma… i’ll take you there…” he nodded his head. “emi, go prepare dinner while i’m gone. momma will take care of this mess.” you told her as she nodded her head.

when you arrived, alastor’s body was mangled beyond recognition, the only way you knew it was him was by the clothes he wore— it must have been someone’s hunting dogs, that means it’s possible somebody already discovered the body, and is headed to the police station. the only possible reason alastor could have been here and on his knees, as emilia said, must have been to dispose of a body. so, the ground beneath you must have a corpse. only the lord knows how many bodies alastor could’ve hidden here. but then, you had an idea.

but, first, you had to check. you dug the dirt below alastor’s body. and lo and behold, was the corpse of noah’s friend-turned-enemy, kenneth. “d…did dad kill ken..?” noah asked, afraid of the answer. “i suppose he did.” you said, frowning over your own answer. did the years truly turn you as heartless as him..? “now, noah… if you don’t want your sister to be locked away in a correctional facility, you’ll help me. understand?” you asked, speaking for the first time with a strict tone. “y-yes, momma…” he said as he pushed back in about 3 feet of dirt. he helped you lower his father’s mangled corpse into the grave, pushing back the remaining 3 feet of dirt.

“now, dear… i need you to head back to your station and see if any hunters reported a corpse in the forest, okay? and, make sure those police dogs you have sniff this area, so that they can find dad…” you said to him, explaining your plan. “yeah, okay, momma… i don’t want little emi going to jail…” he said. this was wrong, but it was to protect your family. for the children, right? you won’t let alastor ruin the family even in his death. if those cops found out that emilia killed alastor, they’d try to punish her for all of his crimes as well.

and with that, you returned home. and when noah came back, he returned triumphant. “they bought it, momma. don’t you worry, emi. no cops are gonna take you away. if they try, i’ll kill ‘em” he assured her, hugging his little sister as the weight on her shoulders fell.

this is good, right? even though it resulted in alastor’s death, all three of you are free from his manipulations. and, yes, you framed an innocent hunter— but, it was to protect the family. after all, you raised such wonderful kids, they don’t deserve to go to jail. they’re so kind, they’d dirty their hands for each other. and… that’s a good thing, isn’t it? they’re loyal to their family.

but then, the guilt finally started to settle in.

and it weighed on your shoulders when they finally lowered alastor’s casket into the ground.

1891 — 1933

loving husband and father

he will be missed by all who knew him

the monster was finally gone.

[flamingpudding]

Modern (Fenton) Ghost Hunting Part 1

Ties to: Post from under 'It started with a Ouija Board' found in the Masterpost

A/N: I got a little stuck with this and there is another bigger fanfic project I started working on that has me distracted. But I wanted to post at least part of this before I might end up in radio silence for three weeks cause I am visiting family out of country and have no idea about internet access there yet 😅

Danny was in a good mood as he slurped the ecto-shake his mom had made upon his return from the Zone. It was one of the more harmless and ghost helping food inventions his parents had come up with, once the truth was out of the bag when he was more or less forced to take on his kingly duties. Though his mom's ecto-fudge special (that was also one of the few ectoplasm infused foods not coming back to life) made for only him and Ellie was even better than the shakes. It wasn't better than their special family recipes their Dad loved so much but it came a close second.

He sipped on it more as he fell back into the couch as he flicked through some TV channels. His last trip to Gotham had been a month ago and he mused that he probably would need to visit soon to update Lady Gotham on the status of the Garbage Disposal Leaks. It was a pain to deal with but hey at least he, for once, got to be the mean guy to yell at the observants how they could have left these alone for over a hundred of years.

Seriously? If he could, he would stick Sam and one of her righteous rants onto them too.

So yea Danny was in a good mood he had gotten rid of another leak which only left a couple more to take care of and then put the observants into their place with another petty with hidden insults filled and Sam inspired as well as co-authored lecture.

He would give Lady Gotham a present for giving him such a great opportunity with this problem, even if that wasn't her intention. There was also a rumor in the GZ that Box Ghost and Walker had gotten beat up by Lady Gotham several times while he was busy, he would like to hear what that was about.

In all this Danny completely forgot about his encounter with the vigilantes and that his parents told him about a new business partner that was interested in their Fenton Ghost Tech that wasn't weaponry but focused on co-existence, like the Fenton (blob-)ghost feeder.

So when the doorbell rang and Danny went to open the door, thinking it might be one of his friends. He nearly choked on his ecto-shake as he came face to face with a person he only knew from paparazzi shots or Tucker's endless rants about their technology.

"Hello, I am Tim Drake-Wayne! I believe I have an appointment with the Drs Fentons? I am not too early am I?"

-------

Red Robin was on his wits end. After the first success he had used various more 'modern' summonings in hopes of getting their ghost to show up again. But most of them ended with the same white ghost or only one other ghost claiming their name as Box Ghost to appear. Strangely when they did appear, after about a minute after their appearance an invisible force started to attack them to which these ghosts instantly turned tail and 'unsummoned' themselves. They didn't even give Red Robin the chance to ask anything.

In the end after the third time of summoning that white ghost called Walker, the ghost peeked out from that portal once and the moment they spotted him sunk back into it. Not even bothering to tell him about any rules RR might have broken. Since then none of his summons appeared to work anymore.

Though the vigilante at least concluded that whatever had attacked their teenage ghost most likely was also the driving force behind Walker or any other ghost refusing to answer his summonings. He had suspicions that might have something to do with Lady Gotham, the teenage ghost mentioned and had been unable to summon at all.

Of course Red Robin couldn't leave it like that so he dug deeper into the whole ghost cult thing and came across published research papers. Apparently the ghost cult wasn't just an occult but also a science, that he highly doubted was real. The deeper he dug the more concerned he became, for one that ectoplasm they mentioned looked awfully a lot like Lazarus Water, and second the research from the Drs Fenton he found was awfully a lot biased until a year or so ago when they suddenly invalidated all their previous research and published a nearly completely different thesis.

Though the teenage vigilante had to admit everything they offered on their website looked a whole lot more modern and right out of a SyFy movie than any of the tools he had already purchased, from a ghost Wikipedia (which surprisingly included information about Walker and that Box Ghost), to protective gear, to feeders and ectoplasm infusers.

So after a small recon with his siblings and listening to their disagreement and another rant from their youngest about Pit Demons, Red Robin made the decision to check these Drs Fenton out undercover. And who better to do that than Tim Drake-Wayne, CoCEO of Wayne Enterprise who got interested in their ectoplasm-powered gadgets designed for co-existing. After all Gotham might just be as hunted if not more with the crime rate they had.

His siblings were not happy, he knew that but he took the earliest chance he had, to take a private plane to Amity Park and made an appointment with the Fentons on a saturday afternoon.

He made sure to smile pleasantly as the son of the Drs Fentons opened the door and took his time staring. Before finally inviting him in after a shout from the Drs. resounded somewhere behind him in the house. Tim of course eyed the glowing green shake the other teenager was drinking, already forming plans on getting a sample of it the first chance he got.

"Mr. Drake! Such a pleasure to have you here! You have already met my little boy Danny, my husband will join us later he got hold up by my daughters. But we do have a couple of inventions prepared for showcasing, we could also go over some of the theories first if you prefer until my husband can join us.." A woman came up shaking his hand and the teenager, Danny, stepped away from them retreating further away but staying in earshot, Tim noted.

"Dr. Fenton, thank you for having me. I am looking forward to learning about this ecto-energy and your Fenton-inventions, I believe one was called an Ecto-Infuser?" Did he imagine it or did that boy cringe? Also the boy was clearly watching him, he tried to appear nonchalant but the way the other teen's eyes followed Tims every move as well as the guarded look in his eyes was making it obvious.

"The Ecto-Dejecto, originally designed to weaken ghosts but is now one of the many medical tools that can help a ghost survive if they do not have a steady supply of ectoplasm." Dr. Fenton easily explained while leading him over to the seating area.

"Danny be a dear and bring our guest something to drink. Coffee or Tea?"

"Coffee would be fine." Not like he would actually drink it. As much as he and his siblings made fun of Bruce's paranoia, he was not about to drink coffee offered by people who research ghosts. Besides, looking around, he wasn't sure how well they followed OSHA and he wasn't about to potentially drink a coffee infused with Lazarus Water. If that ectoplasm was Lazarus water. But he would take it with him as one of many samples.

"Sure things mom. Should I bring out the fudge too?"

Tim's ear twitched and he turned ever so slightly in the direction of the son. No it couldn't be, could it?

"Oh please be so kind."

"Will be right back."

Now Tim wished he had forced at least one of his siblings along. Because if his ears didn't betray him then this teenager had the same voice like the ghost kid. Though his memory could be slightly impaired because of the time frame since he had last heard it. He would need to get a voice recording now too and play it to his siblings.

[leatherandbourbon-a]

@snnynatural

“But every time I think about not having you in my life I literally break into a million pieces.”

— Unknown

[literally-arkansas]

𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚡 𝚑𝚒𝚖 (𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎)

Clay Puppington x reader [editing]

•

Bartending was not easy. You didn't go into the job thinking it would be a breeze, but you'd hoped working somewhere called 'Moralton' might give you any sort of reprieve.

It did not.

There were some characters in town, with various stories, who opened up to your listening ears simply because they had no one else to tell or their lips became too loose. All were various levels of sad or concerning, but none stuck out more than that of Clayton Puppington.

He liked to blame others for his mistakes, always had to be on top. He got angry when he was drunk, and spiteful and brash. But he also cried, easily broke down, and all too often would go from looking like top dog to sobbing into the counter. His face would get red and scrunch up through tears, or he'd slam on the table as he silently sobbed, yearning for more whiskey. It was clear as day he had something deeper going on, always opening up to you but never enough.

Safe to say, Clay was a piece of work. The way he sobbed when he got angry suggested that somewhere within him, at one point maybe he wanted to see himself get better, but it was easier to see others get worse.

And you knew this, of course, but to see him frantically slamming his fist on the thick glass window on Easter Sunday was a whole new level of low.

You yourself had only showed at the bar to do a little bit of spring cleaning. Forghettis was closed for the holiday. In a perfect world, one that was clearly not this one, the citizens would all be spending time with their families or friends rather than alone.

Whether or not they were drinking was a personal choice.

With a sigh, you brushed back your hair and took purposeful steps to the door. Your shoes stuck slightly to the ground, a result of a few poorly mopped spills over time. Bells jangled as you opened the door and peeked out, stepping one foot out into the sidewalk.

"Clay," you called out, your eyes scanning him hesitantly. The well dressed man immediately came to attention, trying to compose himself regardless of the fact you'd seen him in worse states. His brown eyes locked on yours, more admiration than you could claim you'd ever seen in them. "We're closed."

"C'mon, just one drink. I haven't been here in... what, a week?" Somehow Clay managed to be grumbly even when he begged. His brown hair was slightly disheveled, a cowlick sticking out from the rest.

"Three days," you corrected. You couldn't help yourself from thinking, 'and I doubt you've been sober for any of them.'

As you spoke you scanned the sidewalk, checking for any by standards who might see what was about to happen. It was likely wrong of you to do any part of what you were doing. You were closed, for one thing, and it was ridiculous you would break that for one man (and one man only). You knew exactly why you were doing it, too, bad intentions and selfish wants.

With a sigh, you nodded. "You have until I finish cleaning."

Clay's face lit up as much as you'd ever seen it. He was quick to follow you, his hand brushing against your lower back as the door shut almost immediately behind you. His hand was warm against you and full of light you'd never seen in him.

"So, where have you been?" you asked, peeking behind you to glance at the man. You walked in, a route you could've taken blindfolded, behind the counter of the bar.

"Hunting trip with the kid," Clay explained, nonchalant. "We caught a lot of nothing but I got a lot of something. What're the odds you have brandy?"

An eyebrow quirked at the lack of use of his son's name. Mindlessly, you poured him a drink. Immediately, he threw it back.

"That's a shame. My dad took me hunting when I was little, too," you mused, reminiscing on a time long ago. "I always felt a little guilty killing things, but my dad always told me it was getting them closer to God, and then we'd pray for them. And we never killed anything we wouldn't eat.” Clay’s eyes followed you as you walked up and down the length of the bar, wiping away unforgettable nights, as well as those too good to remember. “I don't think he ever saw it that way, actually. He was just thinking of me."

Clay's eye twitched as you handed him another drink. "Why would you be appreciative of him lying to you?”

Clay must've drank before coming to be talking like this. It wouldn’t surprise you if the whole reason he’d come was because he’d exhausted his personal collection.

Deep down, a little part of you liked to think he’d came just to see you. Such a shame, the state he was in. Such a shame, the state you were in.

"It was comforting,” you replied, trying to be gentle. Parenting him, almost. “I don't think he was lying, either. He just… put it into a perspective that made me feel safe.”

"He sounds like a wuss,” Clay commented, throwing back another shot.

"He made quite a few sacrifices for me, and sometimes maybe one of those was… being gentle,” you replied, a little bit more edge on your voice. As you saw it, part of masculinity was being brave enough to set it aside when the time counted.

"Sacrifice!” Clay laughed. Rather, guffawed. “Boy, do I know about sacrifice. I made the ultimate sacrifice, you know. My happiness for my kids. And I do it over and over and over and over again, day in and day out.” He banged on the bar, his words slurring.

As you attempted to craft a response to that that would be even a little bit constructive, the door swung open and there appeared Reverend Putty, slightly disheveled.

"We're over!" Revered Putty shouted, pointing at somebody outside the door. Much more calmly, he turned to gaze inside the depressingly darkened room. "Didn't think you'd be open on Easter.”

"That's because we're closed,” you commented, your eyes softening. “I’m sorry, Reverend.”

"What's he doing here?” Putty asked, somewhat annoyed. He shot an accusatory gaze at Clay.

You looked from the disheveled Clay to the mildly depressed Reverend. "He's doing a routine health inspection.”

“With a drink in his hand?” Putty inquired.

Shit. Good question. Instead of showing you were flustered, you opted to challenge him in a staredown.

"Goddamn it,” Putty grumbled after a moment, stepping out the door. “I'll be back tomorrow.” The bell on the door jingled merrily behind him.

Clay laughed animatedly. “What a loser! That guy finally loses his virginity and it's to the ex Ms. Papermouth.”

"He probably had a pretty good time if she has an ex husband,” you commented.

"It can't have been that good if he's an ex!”

You scoffed, nodding exaggeratedly slowly. Shots fired. "Maybe she broke up with him,” you suggested.

As if the devil had called, the door opened once again, exploding the room with a blinding level of light.

“Hello?” Mr. Papermouth, the town’s policeman announced as he let himself in.

“Look who it is!” Clay exclaimed with an exaggerated laugh. “We were just talking about you, you know-“

Papermouth’s eyes widened, and you shut that down before he could bring himself in and start a fight. “No, we weren’t. We’re closed.”

“You don’t look closed-“

“We’re closed. Easter Sunday.”

“Why is he here?” The same question you’d already heard. Like history repeats itself.

“He’s just about to leave,” you said, giving Clay a pointed look. Officer Papermouth gazed skeptically, but eventually showed himself out.

Clay chuckled heartily, shaking his head. “Everyone in this town is so pathetic.” The irony of his words was not lost on you. “Can’t satisfy his sorry excuse of a wife.”

“Everybody’s going through something,” you reminded him. “It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t come in here and drink himself away.”

“Yeah, good, so I can do it alone,” Clay remarked.

“Wouldn’t you rather *not* be alone?” The question was genuine, hinting at something deeper you shouldn’t have even been thinking.

“Being alone is the only way to be,” Clay stated. He gestured for you to refill his drink, which you reluctantly did, wiping the counter. “Others are weak, but not me.”

“Having support doesn’t make you weak,” you stated, cocking your head to the side slightly.

“Who told you that?” Clay laughed out loud. His face was turning a soft shade of red. “Your *father*?”

“Actually, yes, he did,” you snapped. “And he taught me patience, and you better thank God he did, because otherwise I’d have kicked you out too.”

“Then kick me out! But I bet you can’t, because you rely on others,” Clay taunted. He said haughty in the barstool, his arms crossed over his chest. “You need me here.” Still, he watched you closely, waiting for your response.

You shook your head, conflicting feelings in your heart. Above the rest was a growing annoyance, uncertain why you hadn’t removed him yet.

“I don’t need you here,” you insisted, not technically lying. “In fact, you’ve got about five more minutes before you have to pack it up.”

“I doubt you’ll enforce that,” Clay commented, although he didn’t sit so big anymore. “You and everybody else are so desperate for a friend. I bet your father was just as much of a pushover as you.”

"Clayton Puppington, I will not hesitate to ban your entry if you say one more bad word about my father. He was a great man and an even better parent.”

Clay scoffed. Never knowing when to quit, he challenged, "If he's *sooo* great, how come I took his job?”

You weren't sure if he was trying to provoke you or just that drunk, but you didn't care. He probably wouldn't remember it the next day, anyway. Red filled your head, spurred on by all sorts of things you weren’t ready to understand, but most of all by his blatant disrespect for your family.

Before you were even aware of your hand moving, you hit him.

Clay's eyes went as wide as yours when the loud smack reverberated off of his face. His hand came to cup his cheek and you took a step back, surprised you actually had the balls to do it.

The room went silent, Clay giving you a strangely earnest look that crossed shock with hurt. Your heart stopped.

"Clay, I'm... I'm sorry,” you apologized, realizing what you’d done. Yelling at him would’ve been a more productive move than that - you were grown adults, brawling in a bar. “I should've never done that.”

"What?” Clay asked, his voice small.

“I guess I'm not great at using my words,” you admitted, trying to be as polite as possible. Clay was a big customer - you didn’t exactly want to lose his patronage. “Drinks are on me.”

You brushed a hand on his cheek gently, inspecting the slight red mark. He leaned into it, just enough for you to analyze it for nights after, but not too much.

“Can I kiss you?” Clay asked all of the sudden.

Glancing at him, your eyes softened slightly, confused. You bit your lip, sure you'd never get the chance again. You’d be lying to say you'd never thought about it, never fantasized about it. The way his lips would feel against yours, the way his hands would feel rubbing up and down your sides. In your hair.

“Why would you want to do that," you laughed slightly, crossing your arms over your stomach.

“I think I love you,” Clay admitted bluntly.

“Clay,” you said.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Come on…. I just slapped you, and now you love me,” you reiterated, hoping he’d understand how crazy that was. How unfortunate that was. You shook your head to yourself, erasing the idea from your mind. “No, Clay, you know you don't love me.”

Clay wasn’t convinced. “No, I think I do,” he claimed with conviction. “I want to.”

You sighed, resigning yourself to bear your soul. You placed your hands down flat on the bar, no longer sticky.

“Look… I like you, Clay. More than I should. But you have a wife,” you reminded. “And I’m not blind. I’ve seen your eyes on Mr. Stopframe.”

You couldn’t deny the gazes you’d seen them share - and the way the jealousy held you in its vise.

“That’s because you're different.”

With a sigh you replied, “Ask me when you're sober. It won't make either of us feel any better right now.”

And that was the gimmick, wasn’t it? He loved you when he was drunk. And even if he loved you sober, he never was.

Always two drinks in, always two feet apart.

[fandomsandhappiness]

towem 2 predictions

you know, living in hope and all that

denise and ellie manage to pressure ryn and naomi into drinking. it's ryn's first time boozing so everyone's jaw drops when she admits afterwards it was preferable to psilocybin, but not as useful

kissing naomi too much makes ryn sleepy so one morning senator dad catches them in bed together. he is forced to concede that naomi has neatly circumvented all his rules about boys but he's still mad. at least he doesn't have to worry about pregnancy though

naomi begs ryn to go on the madison school trip to paris with them. naturally the fates get involved. the whole thing turns out to have been a terrible idea—ryn knew it would be, but she couldn't resist naomi's big pleading eyes

glycon sends saxby 2.0 to kill naomi (the egg rat). set the pretender is helpful in a slimy sort of way

REAL set comes back and he is mad. unfortunately the pretender is kind of useful to ryn by now so she has to keep him alive too. she hates this

naomi is referred to as an 'auburn-haired doe' at least ten times

more Eldritch Gods from Beyond The Stars, but only in passing

i think they will have sex and it will be made clear in the book that's what happening but i have absolutely no idea how graphic it's going to be

denise snags them all fake ids so they can go to a bar. fortunately ryn knows a place! naomi and elli are scandalised to find that it's a gay bar. denise is delighted. muse makes bitchy little comments all night about ryn's harem

i really want more of this cunty hedonistic lesbian professor but honestly i suspect she's never going to be a big part of the series because she would immediately point out exactly how weird it is that ryn is dating a teenager. and she has a point

although now that i think about it, muse is ryn's one (1) supernatural contact she hasn't alienated. hell yeah now we're talking. melody wiercinski fans rise up

actually maybe word gets out that ryn killed splat & co. and a number of independent monsters in the city take a liking to her. maybe they hear that she leaves the harmless ones alone and they start angling for her protection

ryn uses a gun at some point. naturally she's very good at it but she doesn't like it

let's play a game, someone says! denise suggests that ryn could hunt them for sport. 'no,' ryn replies. 'you wouldn't be much fun.' awkward silence. 'bet you'd be happy to hunt naomi though.' even more awkward silence

obviously naomi gets off on seeing ryn's eyes and teeth and generally being threatened by the monster but i reckon that as ryn unwinds around naomi she'd really start to enjoy letting her take control. leading to this classic situation

none of this is correct. towem 2 is just a towem 1 retelling from david kessler's perspective. and it's a romcom about how he got back together with victoria cross, bad bitch supreme

[leatherandbourbon-a]

@snnynatural 🥺

“I love you like a child looking at the stars without being able to touch them.”

— Unknown

[gretahayes]

hii i would love to hear about medusa and other such musings 🫶

OKAY so medusa is this hugeeee thing for me that’s like. an exploration of csa (& sa/sexual harassment! connor represent 💪) trauma via (kev smith archer's quest era) mia, late sb94 kon (who atp is house hunting due to becoming recently homeless) & connor (who timeline-wise is recovering from being shot in the head). it takes place over the course of the week ollie & roy are on their road trip (archer's quest ❤️) so it’s a chapter per day + a prologue (day zero) + a shorter day 8 (when ollie comes back). mostly based off the fact that i think the arrows could be really good for kon to unpack that kind of shit, plus the fact that the place i put it in the timeline is crucial — ollie is temporarily gone, mia is freshly w/ the arrows & still reeling from the trauma of the almost decade of her life & finally being in a place to process it, connor just got shot in the head and is still unsteady from that & just got his dad back, and this is the best place before tt03 i could grab kon & make him slow down, put him in an environment where he can do that. kon-mia parallels are fascinating to me and they can be bad-good for each other

it will take forever. but it will be worth it when i finish it.

excuse me being on mobile but here's three excerpts bc bro is gonna be longggg and also it’s precious. to me

^ day 1

^ day 2

^ day 5

x

[hopes-memorial]

🎁 :3 ur choice bestie

Get a gift from my muse

Let's see what I have for them :3

Shion to Reid: "I wasn't sure of your size, but this dress reminded me of you."

Shion to Riley: "Yousuke mentioned that you might need a new one... so here."

Yousuke to Riley: "Here! What do you think? Got ammo to go with it along with one that matches so we don't have to carry too many different types. Should be good for our next hunting trip!"

Yousuke to Reid: "I don't know much about this kind of stuff, but Shi mentioned that you like plants, too, so I just grabbed whatever he said was useful. Who knows, might be great to have around!"

Matsuri to Aika: "Hey, cutie! I saw these and thought they were so you. I think they'd really bring out your eyes, but it's hard to improve someone as perfect as you are."

Amai to Andrew: "Andie, Andie! Amai saw these and thought that you might like them. Hehe, Amai also made treats for your adorable birdies, aren't they the cutest!"

Amai to Yuuki: "Amai wasn't sure what Yuu-kun liked... sorry, buuut Amai thought that some stuff for your sport would be good! Plus, plus a really tasty hot cocoa mix to help keep you warm!"

Botan to Alestria: "This should be useful to you... and this little trinket may keep you from getting lonely."

Yotsuba to Akashi: "Hey! My mom said to give this to you and yours! Heh, I helped with everything of course, but this is a honey cake and veggies from my dad and eldest brother's garden! Also uh... got you this! Heh, reminded me of you."

[duckbang]

Two Dots

Two dots form a line. Two electrons form a bond. Two people form a friendship.

It gets a bit more complicated after that.

Three dots don't make two lines. They can make three, or they can make one. But three electrons don't form three bonds. They form a free radical - well, they can make two bonds in certain circumstances, look at diborane, but banana bonding is weird… it isn’t exactly a three electron bond either. Three people still form a friendship, but it can be tilted, and as they say, three is a crowd.

Where the laws of gravity devised a smooth dance between two planets, between three it is chaotic loops of who will be kicked out first. With three comes the chaos that two had successfully covered in its simplicity.

There were three of us. Me, my brother, and my sister. And well, there is our dad - single and adoptive- and our honorary aunt, who has no relation to our dad apart from friendship. But the three of us were together from the start, since before we met the adults we call family.

We're not three anymore. We could be, we still talk to each other, through telepathy if not face to face. But we aren't together anymore. My brother and sister live together, in a remote, almost inaccessible location. One could go there, but the trip is harsh and not at all forgiving. I live with my dad and aunt, helping them with work.

But right now I stand on a stage, to give an interview with the news stations, one that is not related to dad's research but to my own. I started out helping with his work, but over time my interest deviated to researching animal behaviour within and without their herds (or flocks, or whatever the groups of specific animals are called). There's a hierarchy in both pack animals and lone dwellers. It is challenged often, but the top boss is the top, and not easily defeated. No matter how hard the planets try, they can't make the sun revolve around them. (Well, in a way, the sun does revolve around them. Its the pack leader’s job to make sure their pack is safe. Its a position that comes with both power and responsibility.)

My aunt stands to the side of the stage, hidden by the curtains. I glance at her before turning back to the press. My latest paper created a buzz, for reasons I don't quite understand. It was obvious, wasn't it..? "I simply find it surprising that no one has written anything about it yet, so after detailed research I decided to do it myself," I say in response to a question.

It took years to get enough data. 

"You taught a gryphon how to write with a pencil."

The gryphon in question is, of course, the brilliant silver and earth coloured beast sleeping on the stage, unbothered by the lights and noise. I met it in the beginning stages of my research, when we were scouring out the dry canyons the species calls home. Gryphons aren't pack animals, they prefer to stay alone, but at the same time they're not territorial and let other members of the species prowl and hunt in their area. Mine was a youngling at the time, possibly separated from its mother, because gryphon parents do not look for lost children. I decided to take it in, a decision I have never come to regret.

"It has been known for a long time that gryphon intelligence is comparable to, if not exceeding, human intelligence. It should not come as that great of a surprise," I point out gently. 

Their body design is different from humans, but with specialised tools and lots of practice and explanation it was able to hold a pencil, and with a few more months of work it managed to write it's name on a large sheet, and it was readable.

Maybe that could be a strategy used to help children with learning disabilities, I muse, but don't say it out loud. It's not my area of expertise, but maybe I'll bring it up with a teacher later. Journalists are not good people to discuss things like this with. 

My sister's presence makes itself known via a slight pressure on the back of my head, silently asking if I'm free. Wait, I tell her. Not right now.

I feel her nod as she retreats further into the back, enough that I can focus, but she's clearly interested in what I'm doing. I don't blame her. I'll never get bored of my job either. 

"Look at it this way," I say in response to a question I didn't entirely hear, "Gryphons don't see other members of their species as threats. They challenge each other for territory, yes, but they share their resources. The hierarchy is more of a gradient than a stepcase, with the largest and oldest member of the species usually at the top of it." And its often hard to tell who that is, it took me close to a year to find the leaders of the respective areas I focused on.

Even mine, who had started off obeying commands without question, had become more assertive as it grew older and larger. And now it is bigger than me, our mutual understanding and the gryphon nature being the only things keeping it obedient. Still, it was smart, and would refuse to do a task if it sensed that the job would harm someone, friend or stranger. 

My brother's presence curls around in my subconscious as I keep speaking, curiosity and warning intermixing as he decides to not detract my attention and talks to our sister instead. "Gryphons have been seen to treat even those who hurt them with compassion and kindness, and it is only in extraordinary situations that they seriously injure anyone. We could certainly learn something from that."

A babble of indignation meets my statement. “Humans are perfect,” they say, furious. “We don't need to learn from dumb animals.”

Both of my siblings bristle on hearing them.

I do, too, but keep my composure as I narrow my eyes.

"Humans have often killed each other over minor misunderstandings. Is that what you call perfect?"

No species is perfect. Human capacity to understand and adapt our behaviour is unmatched, so it gives us more avenues to grow. It is a shame that even 'simpler' animals like dogs, then, outmatch us in understanding, cooperation, and compassion.

Once, before I started working as a researcher, before we started living separately, the three of us decided to follow a pack of wild dogs to see where they would go. We were old enough to be trusted alone by then, and with school being on vacation we didn't have anything to worry about. So we packed our bags with enough food and clothes to last us a week and set off behind the pack.

It was an interesting experience. But what stood out to me most then, and even now, was how they made sure no member of their pack was left behind, and if one was injured they would slow their pace considerably so it could keep up. Gryphons don't do that, but they're not exactly social species. That was the incident that kicked off my interest in behaviour research in the wild, instead of trained behaviours in the lab.

Sure, my gryphon knows how to write, but it is a lab animal. I taught it mainly just to see what would happen, as with the landshark we taught to buy groceries.

I should probably take up researching dogs behaviour again, but for the foreseeable future Gryphons have a chokehold on my research. The latter is also what I tell a reporter asking what's next for my work, and after answering a few more questions and dodging those about my family, the conference moves on to some other scientists I forget the name of. But I'm free to leave or stay now, as I wish. I decide to stay, finally getting time to talk to my siblings who've been waiting for about an hour now.

It must be serious, if they decided to wait. 

So, she projects, amusement laced in her voice, You know how two dots form a line?

I don't have the patience for this, I decide immediately.

Well, I was thinking, and you can't have a combination of points that makes exactly two lines, if you want to connect all of them. Two dots form one line, but three form three, or one, and four form four or three or one, and so on, but no assortment makes two. That's weird, isn't it?

I thought you hated maths? my brother replies.

Get to the point, I tell her as I take the complimentary lunch box the organisers had so thoughtfully put together. Is the number of lines really that important?

I do, I was just thinking. And well... There really isn't any point. I just thought it was weird.

And here I thought it was something serious, I think. Unfortunately they pick up on my thoughts.

Aw, you worry about me? my sister teases as I settle down to eat.

Not if you keep being annoying like that, I respond. My brother laughs at that.

With that sorted out by tracking down a mathematician or two who were free to talk to my sister and giving them her address - which, again, directed them to an almost inaccessible area, and with my gryphon finally awake enough to fly us back to our home, I decided to finally head out of the conference hall. The sky, already orange and pink from the setting sun on one side and fading to the deep blue of night on the other, cloudless and the air without much in the way of wind, stood perfect for flying. My gryphon's wings reflected the fading light of the sun as we rose into the air, turning to gold from silver and the deep browns gave it a brilliant shaded look. It was a work of art, through and through. 

It takes two people to form a friendship, two souls for a connection. I know it's silly, but I've never felt more connected to anyone more than my silver and earth gryphon. Even my siblings, and we can talk to each other through telepathy, never made me feel the same way as simply being with my gryphon does. I ruffle the soft feathers on its back, feathers that almost look like fur from a distance, so soft and small. I have never regretted bringing it home with me, even if it does challenge me for my bedroom sometimes. 

I space out during the flight, almost falling asleep to the beating of its heart and the occasional flap of its wings. There's no danger of falling, my gryphon is a graceful and careful flyer. As such, with the last rays of the sun dipping below the horizon and the only thing lighting up the sky being a pale twilight, I doze off, trusting my friend to keep both of us safe. 

[leatherandbourbon-a]

@snnynatural

[mashithamel]

House of Sky and Breath: Sarah J Maas

House of Sky and Breath is immediately available from the library, much to my surprise and pleasure! My reading thread (originally on BlueSky) is below 🧵:

* You don’t often see a prey/herbavore shifter in an aggressive role, so the Hind is immediately interesting. This Holocaust/WWII story, however, is awful 😢.

* A firebird! This will give me info about Vassa too, right? 🐦‍🔥

* Yay, we get to meet Ember and Randall in person!

* Ruhn, it is possible that you are too old and have too many responsibilities to get completely shit-faced, even occassionally. Moderation might suit you better, yes?

* "Have you met my mom?" Bryce burst out. "Does rational ever spring to mind when you think about her? She makes sculptures of babies in beds of lettuce, for fuck's sake." I ❤️ Ember

* I’m glad to see Viktoria is not completely forgotten. Can someone go get her now? Maybe she hasn’t gone completely mad yet.

* First off, Cormac is the perfect name for a stuck up, entitled brat who thinks the world owes him everything. Second, does he or the Autumn King actually think she’s just going to roll up to the alter because they say so? Did they see what she did to the last guy who tried to control her?

* Either Celestina is intentionally evil or the Archangels need a better HR department. You have a choice how the triarii gets split and you put the guy responsible for torture with the guy he tortured in the same group? Or you hope they’ll take each other out.

* “People died so you could have this power. People have been dying in this battle for fifteen thousand years so we could reach this point. Don't play the reluctant hero now.” Well. No pressure, Bryce. You just keep staying under the radar. Not like thousands of years of people dying going to waste if you do…

* Danika was a very busy woman. I assume she never slept? Not sure how she ever had time to party with Bryce.

* “You used to be obsessed with this thing that I won and you lost—what do you mean now, 50 years later, you have new interests and priorities?” Growth, Ruhn. It’s called growth. You might want to look into it.

* “Can we go back to how the Prince of the Chasm was *sitting on my lap*?” Heh.

* “now's probably as good a time as any to admit I don't want to wait until Winter Solstice.” Thank. God.

* There is a time and a place to decide to go for a nighttime stroll, or develop very selective hearing and memory, and this is it, Ithan.

* “As if you're folding two points on a piece of paper so that the two points can meet." "Like a wormhole," Hunt mused, wings rustling. Cormac waved a dismissive hand. “Wormhole, teleportation, yes. Whatever you want to call it” A wrinkle! That’s what I want to call it! #AWrinkleInTimeForever

* “Just long enough that their living descendants and loved ones either forget or don't come asking.” The Bone Quarter is the setting for “Coco.”

* "Next time, I'll bring us some psychic beers and a TV. We'll get you normal again." I’m a bit spoiled so I’m pretty sure I know who Daylight is, but this is cute and something nice for Ruhn (when he isn’t hugh/drunk/making bad choices to piss off his dad) would be really nice.

* The otters are so cute. I would squeal too if one brought me something.

* Blood salt, on the other hand, is very disturbing (and appropriately creepy).

* They really should have asked about the kid first. And why did Bryce need to come on this little trip in the first place? It’s not like we had to have her POV.

* I like that Bryce screws up in getting Juniper to principle. She has good intentions, but it was badly done and she was wrong to have done it without consulting Juniper, and she knows it. It’s refreshing, maybe? Bryce isn’t Feyre. She’s flawed and has consequences and is very human.

* This whole book is going to be one cock block after another, huh?

* Aww, Sofie. Poor Cormac.

* Can this boat get Viktoria out of the crack she’s stuck in???

* Now Bryce is suddenly a mastermind of underground railroading? I guess she and Hunt spent a week apart? It’s just weird because they share, like, everything. They haven’t really been keeping secrets. It’s been surprisingly successful given every other plan has gone to crap.

* And now they’re going to fight about the fact that he was upset she made terribly risky decisions without looping him in? Ugh. Juvenile. I expected better from this series.

* Yeah, Bryce seems pretty blase about the multiple people who were *tortured to death* as a direct result of her plans she didn’t see fit to tell anyone, even when it was apparent it kept happening???

* Jesus, the blood eagle. I learned about that from Vikings, an incredibly gory show that found that particular act of torture to be so horrific even they didn’t show it directly on screen (although they did describe it in graphic detail so you know exactly what’s happening). 🥺

* “I understand why you didn’t tell me.” Well, Hunt, *I* don’t understand, so why don’t you explain it to me? I get ranty in ACOTAR about the characters having inexplicible reactions to things, but I thought we’d mostly avoided that in Crescent City 😠

* “She regretted that the Viper Queen had killed those people, but she'd be damned if she felt bad about how things had ended up ...” Good god, Quinlan. Did those people not have loved ones who mourn and miss them? Like you mourned Danika? Like you would grieve if it was Hunt? I need a *lot* more regret from you about this.

* No, I’m not getting over this. Does she try to make reparations to the families? Meet the people hurt by the loss? You’ve got about 30% more of this book to redeem yourself, Bryce Quinlan.

* I slept on it and I’m still mad. Hunt notes that Bryce cares more about the little people than Shahar did, and she does! Except here, where her choices made this happen? This sophmore outing in the series is not holding up…

* Heh, the tally at the Summit was how many times Ruhn checked out Hypaxia. Love it.

* "Everything that ever happened to me, it was all so I could meet you, Quinlan. Be here with you. I'm yours. Forever." I mean. This is a good line.

* Shadows rippled around Cormac. "You could have let me know while you were plotting." Yes. Yes they could have given him a heads up. He’s repeatedly risked everything, had their back time and again, and clearly knows how to keep a secret. They were incredibly rude.

* How many weeks has it been, and NOBODY told Cormac Emile was safe? Bryce has become incredibly shitty in this book. He loved Sofie, wanted Emile safe for her. Bryce is an asshole 😠 I’m so disappointed.

* And then we’re all just, eh, whatever, we’re cool about it? How Bryce has any friends left at the end of this book Imll never know.

* “War means death. Death means souls—and more secondlight. Who am I to turn away from a feeding trough?” …fair point, Under-King. Creepy, but fair.

* I’m sorry, what? Exactly how many double lives did Danika live?

* “She was sick of these surprises about Danika, about all the things she'd never known” Same, Bryce. Same.

* And if Sabine knew, why the hell would Bryce not know???

* No, I refuse to believe Danika wouldn’t have told Bryce. Not about this. This is too big a deal, she would have absolutely told her sister.

* “If he defected from the River Queen, then he could defect from the Viper Queen one day, couldn't he?” We knew Tharion was an idiot due to horniness, and a scummy idiot for contemplating enslaving a dragon to save himself, but have we considered that he’s just an idiot-idiot?

* "Keep the casualties to a minimum," Hunt said to Cormac, to Tharion. "We don't need their blood on our hands." Good advice, *Bryce*.

* This 24h clock on the mer is pretty intense.

* So, less Monster’s Inc. and more The Matrix.

* "Look, I already did the whole villain monologuing thing with Micah this spring, so cut to the chase." Heh. It’s funny cause it’s true.

* "Our love is stronger than time, greater than any distance. Our love spans across stars and worlds. I will find you again. I promise." This is also a good line.

* “Gwydion.” You guys. The Prydain Chronicles is my absolute favorite series, and Prince Gwydion was my first fictional crush. I wrote so much fanfiction about him. Do you have any idea how much I’m going to love reading this name all the time next book? And then Nesta gets him? 😍

* Ok, ok, that’s a decent cliffhanger ending! I was thinking of just blowing off the whole book for character assassination, but Day has caught my attention and hopefully Nesta will get it back on track? Oh, and Ithan has good potential. I do wish Cormac hadn’t been screwed, but if there isn’t a body…

* I mean, I’m not forgetting the character assassination. I think I will selectively remember this book and just conveniently forget the stupid parts.

* As luck would have it, A House of Silver Flames arrived today! No waiting!

[recordstellar-official]

Bootstraps and Philogenesis

Scene 2: A second intermission before the quarter rest

9th of Thermidore Y227 2nd Unity

There was nothing going on. And it was a good time to figure out what some of these nicknames were. Dulni twisted the prism in her hand, letting the light reflect off of the silver at its core. "Sandwich?" Dulni asked.

"...oh that. It's nothing. Really," Lialka replied.

"Besides, didn't he say calling the etching was only for emergencies?"

"I think your dad would agree that intense boredom is itself an emergency," Dulni quipped back.

"Oh no, you're right. You're right and worse, you sound like my brother."

"By the way, how is he? Are you ever stopping by Dragon Spire?"

"He's doing well. Just got him out of retirement, so he's not too happy about that," Lialkareplied. "We've got all of Feygard as a priority anyway. By the way, is that all you have going on? A relic hunt thrown on you by my dad?"

"Yeah. It's probably going to be a quick round trip though. I doubt we have enough equipment or supplies to camp overseas for long."

"Oh we don't need either," Kip replied.

"What?" Dulni asked.

"What we have stowed away below decks is worth the extra charges spent to have it delivered in transit."

"Oh that thing you had us waiting for before we left early," Kellarin quipped.

"Yeah, before the mist kicked in earlier than I had planned," Kip replied.

Dulni shrugged.

"Ok, so what's getting us in and out fast?"

"I'll explain when you're done with your friend. I don't need the State listening in on my plans."

"She's a friend. She can be trusted."

"Not as long as she or any of her own wear a badge, they can't. At least not by me. And by extension you when you're working for me or with me. Got it?"

A click sounded on Lialka's end as she heard Dulni hang up. Typical Dulni. Always fighting. Too bad she didn't have a chance to warn them of the reef just off the continent. She chuckled. She may be working for a coercive construct built on collective agreement, but L.A.D.D.E.R was the closest thing to a legitimate anarchy she'd ever seen. There was no central authority, just rank awarded through competency and merit. Administrators were masters at skills related to their contracted specialty or department. The only authorities they could even be considered beholden to were the plane of Augur-machinus and the union of Valsien/LirinThael Koirrym, the latter of which funded the expeditions and special assignments that allowed for the free travel and loose diplomacy extended to their agents. It was better than having to found your own guild. Lialka mused on thoughts related as she walked to a cupboard in the galley to grab herself a drink. Juhn voice echoed up through the staircase leading to the bunks.

"Sister, do you have any of those dream catchers you put away?"

Juhn. He was in the hallway. Outside the room he had led Raina to.

"Do you need help getting the couches installed?"

Juhn watched as Lialka's shadow extended toward the chime-ladder.

"Yes, actually that would be appreciated."

[moonglowmagic]

Pilar Santos || 32 years old || Vampire || Figure Skating Instructor & Dance Teacher 

TW: murder, poisoning

Arrived in town around March 2023

Is an only child who was raised by her grandmother, aunts, and uncles. 

Might have some daddy issues since her dad always ignored her and she constantly tried to get his approval.

She’s a former hunter; who was never really a good hunter anyways. She hated hurting people. 

Ended up focusing on figure skating as a distraction from hunting. Which she ended up really good and was eventually partnered with @icexpackxjc​. 

Ended up poisoning him due to pressure from her family which cost him his career. Which while hunting him she found out about Lunar Cove. 

On a hunting trip with her dad they ended up attacked by vampires and she ended up turned. 

Might have murdered her dad in self defense.

Is 100% a ripper so watch out.

Knew she couldn’t go home so came to Lunar Cove instead 

Loves skating, archery, dancing, roller skating, knitting

Is a true cinnamon roll and the nicest person you could ever meet. 

Her closet is a mix of soft colors and pastels. She loves everything pastel. 

Her favorite color is mint green. 

Currently is living with Chai Rune ( @cantfightmoonlight​ )

Want to know more about Pilar Santos?

❀ Biography ❀ Tag on my personal

Tagging System:

❀ Threads Want to find a certain person? Search ( ft. name here. ) ❀ Musing ❀ Mirror ❀ Playlist

Wanted Connections:

❀ Coming soon

[thewolfruns]

muse: rhiannon nankova open to: all genders. setting: zombie apocalypse – rhiannon survived and because of her poor judgment, wasn’t with her glaciologist father on a research trip at amundsen-scott in antarctica. good luck? bad luck? who knows! but she thinks maybe your muse skipped the trip this time too and knows something or went with and they made it back. does your muse know what happened to professor ivan nankov? triggers: potential parental death, apocalyptic themes

rhiannon looked again at the map. she couldn’t be sure that the rolodex in her father’s old berkeley office had been up to date, but it was better to follow the lead (however impossible) than to do nothing. she’d made the mistake of spending an ill-advised summer chasing some stupid boy and hoping he’d fall in love with her instead of her normal research assistant responsibilities with her father at the amundsen-scott base in antarctica. she could’ve had her masters by now if she hadn’t let herself get so distracted by the idea of being in love (and being duped by illegitimate tinder dates) and now, face to face with the end of the world, she didn’t even know if her dad was on the continent. let alone if he was still alive. 

so she’d pulled the contact information off his office rolodex–what a luddite–and decided to search for any of his old colleagues that might’ve gone with him. research assistants, professors, cooks, you name it, she was on the hunt. the first few places were empty and in the fourth, she’d nearly risked a bite from a walker that had caught her by surprise. she wasn’t a great fighter, but after spending so much time with her father in the coldest place on earth, she had a few survival skills. and, hell, she’d survived this long. somehow. 

it felt silly to knock, but this address seemed to be free of the living and the dead. if she closed her eyes or looked only at her feet, she could almost pretend it was a normal day. and, still, it felt like intruding to search the place without knocking first. so she knocked and hoped against hope that this person–if no others–would be home. and, maybe, they could tell her if her father had ever made it back from antarctica before the outbreak or if he was still there. maybe as clueless as ever, thinking he had a chance at coming home to a living world. the only thing to do know was wait.